My Impressions of Dali

A grey sky, and the sounds of people living around me, melting their way through this day. And my body plastered to the same fabric of this couch. My syndicated emotions spiraling like a drain in a shower collecting all the dirt and things unfit for my skin. And I focus on these emotions. Serrating. Liplocked. Composing in me like a grand opera show meant for a boisterous voice, some of them echoes of the boy I was, with the smile, and the twinkle my grandma always saw in my eyes; others less recognizable, dulled, like trying to see through a thick fog; the more recent ones like a total eclipse of my early twenties, a big black out. Peculiar, right, that I should forget those nights with lovely girls with lovely names like Sapphire and Cassidy and those beds that creaked more than I would have liked. Quiet again, the worst kind of quiet. You know this quiet- brittle, flimsy to the touch. A pin is all I need to pop the quietness. Maybe the water from the explosion will shower my face and bring me back to optimism. A solid cleansing. Surreal. Salvador Dali jealous of my dripping frame.

Speechless…oh man. So speechless right now. I wish I could think of a more meaningful way to say thank you. These words came at the right time. Really needed to hear that. Keeps me motivated to write for all I am worth. Wow. Amazing…

The feeling is completely mutual. I lose myself in your writing all the time, and it always leaves me wanting more more more. Keep up the amazing work…there is nothing better than receiving a notification in my inbox saying you have published something new!